Enemy Camp by David Hill

of them in hospital tried to rip off their bandages, or throw themselves out of bed.’
    ‘There was another officer,’ I went.
    Dad sipped his tea. ‘A lieutenant: doesn’t speak English. Captain Ashton is trying to sort out with him and Ito what work the new lot of Nips are willing to do.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Ito’s a cunning blighter. He’s got them playing this board-game they have back home. It’s called Go, and they go, alright! They’re too keen onbeating one another to cause much trouble just now.’
    We listened to the nine o’clock BBC News on the wireless. The Yanks and the Solomon Islanders are in a big battle against the Japs in the Pacific. The Russians have cut off a whole Nazi army near a city called Stalingrad, and the Germans are starving. Mum went out of the room when she heard that.
    No more news until we come back from Castlepoint. Except for news from me. I’m going to write all about it in this journal.
    SUNDAY, 20 DECEMBER Nothing.
    MONDAY, 21 DECEMBER Nothing.
    TUESDAY, 22 DECEMBER Nothing.
    WEDNESDAY, 23 DECEMBER I forgot to take my journal. I felt so wild!
    We got back last night. The road between Castlepointand Masterton is hilly and winding. Most of it’s shingle, but some is mainly dirt, so we had to help push the truck over a couple of slippery parts. Mum and Dad and I walked up the steep hills to lighten the load, and, even then, the truck was hardly moving any faster than us.
    We had an amazing time. We swam. We walked out to the lighthouse, and watched the waves come swinging in, ‘all the way from South America’ Mum said. I climbed the huge Castle Rock hill. Dad caught three fish; I caught two lots of seaweed, one old coat, and another fishing line. We lit the kerosene lamp in the evenings, and read. I finished
The Swiss Family Robinson
, and I’m halfway through another story called
The Sword in the Stone
, about King Arthur and how he got his magic sword.
    I nipped over to the Morrises’ as soon as we had unpacked today. Their front door was open, to make a breeze. Clarry was standing in the hallway, staring at the wall. What—
    Then I realised he was gazing into the mirror hanging there. Just standing with the big metal braces on his legs, and the crutches under his arms (he must have been feeling tired), and looking at himself.
    I scuffed one foot on the path, and he swung around. ‘G’day, Ewen.’ He jerked his head at the mirror. ‘Sometimes I can’t believe that’s what I look like. Hey, come and tell us about Castlepoint.’
    I did. But I kept thinking: I’ve had three days swimming and walking and exploring, while Clarry …
    THURSDAY, 24 DECEMBER Christmas Eve. And I’ve got Mum and Dad a present.
    I collected a whole lot of paua shells from Castlepoint beach, ones that glow like rainbows. I found some glue in Dad’s shed, and while he and Mum were down at the grocer’s this morning I stuck the best bits of shell on a smooth bit of wood. They spell out M ERRY C HRISTMAS , M UM AND D AD . It’s not much, but I made it.
    I thought of the lighthouse again. The fishing, and the sandhills where I raced Dad up and down. The curve of beach all the way to the headland. Castlepoint is such a great place; I hope we can go there again.
    The postman had so many Christmas cards to deliver, he didn’t come until after lunch. Dad’s friend Bruce has neighbours who got just one letter on Christmas Eve last year. It was from the army, a photo of the grave where their son was buried after he’d been killed in Greece. ‘Dunno how you could ever face Christmas again,’ my father said to Mum.
    I read more of
The Sword in the Stone
, about King Arthur meeting Robin Hood. In the afternoon, we all walked into town. It was crowded: everyone strolling up and down, wishing one another a Merry Christmas.You’d never know there was a war on, except for the uniforms, and the people wearing a black band around their arm to show someone in their family has been killed.
    I